


Leap of Faith

by Allerleirauh



Series: A Long Road [1]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Community: Fic Rush, Episode Related, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allerleirauh/pseuds/Allerleirauh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rush struggles with Young’s decision to put Destiny’s crew into stasis. Episode tie-in for ‘Gauntlet’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap of Faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/gifts).



> betaed by lahela and cirque  
> wirtten for smallfandomfest / Fest 12  
> Prompt: we'll never be done

“How long will it take you to prep the rest of these pods?” Young had asked Eli.

“A day, maybe,” Eli had answered.

“Get to work.”

One last question by Young and one answer by Eli, given somewhat hesitantly; that was all it took for Young to make his decision in the end.

Rush had stood by at the pod control station, listening to them, and for a split-second he had been speechless at the sheer recklessness, the irresponsibility of Young’s decision. When Rush had tried to intervene again though, Young had managed to shut him up easily and effectively.

“You have twenty-four hours to come up with a better idea,” Young had told him, not even breaking his stride, barely gracing Rush with a sideways glance, as he’d headed out of the corridor, leaving Rush alone with his yet unvoiced objections and his doubts about Eli’s far too risky plan. He’d stood there for a while, his mind in turmoil, thinking that it was at these moments, these moments in particular, when Young just based his command decisions on a leap of faith instead of listening to Rush’s much more sensible reasoning, that perpetually kept them at odds.

He had spent a good portion of the next twenty-four hours trying to come up with an alternative to Eli’s plan, one that wouldn’t involve them entrusting their lives to the accuracy of Eli’s calculations and the hope they’d make it to the next galaxy without any catastrophic failures of _Destiny’s_ eon-old systems. He had tried hard, had searched with mounting frustration, but he had failed.

***

It was late in _Destiny’s_ ship day and almost exactly twenty-four hours after their last discussion that he found himself in front of the colonel’s quarters. Though he hadn’t found an alternative, he had decided to nonetheless make a last effort to convince Young of the foolishness of Eli’s plan. Still preoccupied with his own calculations of the past hours he reached out to announce his presence, but suddenly he stopped, his hand frozen in mid-air, hovering inches away from the door’s metal.

Walking here he’d felt tired and frustrated, more than slightly annoyed, and he’d harboured a general grudge against the unfairness of the universe. Now, from one moment to the next he felt inexplicably nervous without knowing why, exactly. Was it the significance of Young’s final decision? He doubted it, yet it couldn’t be Young himself, could it? Or the fact that Rush was about to enter the man’s private quarters? He rejected those ideas instantly, almost reflexively. It wasn’t as if he expected to get into a fight, and he’d been to the colonel’s quarters under far more dubious circumstances before.

 _You’ve never been intimidated by walking into the lion’s den_. The thought sprang unbidden to his mind, completely out of nowhere. He snorted at the picture it conjured up in his imagination. He most certainly wouldn’t compare Young to a lion. Granted the man was dangerous and Rush had discovered that the hard way, had learned that he didn’t stand a chance against Young in an actual fight, but a lion? No, most certainly not, and he most certainly wasn’t the Daniel of the story. Oh no, he’d proven to be far too vulnerable to the lion’s claws and teeth. Letting his hand drop, he snorted again, this time somewhat embarrassed at the self-pity implicit in that image. _Since when am I that prone to such foolish religious imagery?_ He shook his head to clear his mind and to shake off these last disturbing thoughts.

He’d barely had time to register the doors to Young’s quarters suddenly opening before its inhabitant practically ran him to the ground, barrelling into him as Young came out of his quarters in a hurry, clearly not expecting anyone to be lingering in front of them.

Young tried to grab him by the arms. In hindsight, Rush would comprehend that the gesture was just an attempt to prevent both of them from falling over, but right then, right in that moment, he reacted on pure instinct, reacted with a violent and instinctive flail, bringing his own hands up to protect his face against the attack and trying to take a step back that made him stumble, causing him to fall hard on his ass instead.

He sat there, gasping and struggling for breath, looking up at Young who stared at him with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

Suddenly Rush saw himself back on that fateful desert planet more than a year ago. Young’s initial attack there had come equally unexpected. The first hit had sent Rush sprawling backwards. All his contempt for the man in front of him had suddenly flared into white hot rage, had made him grab blindly for a stone and hurl it at the colonel. He hadn’t cared about the damage he might cause, hadn’t cared and hadn’t thought. He’d fought for his life, nothing more and nothing less.

Things had spiralled out of control fast. Young’s ‘Are we done?’ might have been an attempt to stop their rapid descent into deadly violence, but Rush had been too far gone for any rational thought at that point. He’d felt so utterly enraged, had only seen the arrogant condescension the words implied and had struck out. ‘We’ll never be done!’ he’d snarled back. His words had been followed by a sudden flare of pain before darkness had closed in on him.

“I was about to knock,” he now said with a glare. _No, definitely not a lion_ , he thought, _more a stout and careless bear, ready to cause havoc out of the sheer clumsiness of his movements._

Instead of answering, Young extended a hand towards him. Though Rush had to suppress the urge to shy away, he didn’t flinch, but took the hand proffered to help him up. There was a strange expression on Young’s face as he did so. It wasn’t a smirk of irony or embarrassment, those Rush would have understood, but the expression hinted more at a deep regret with a strong current of underlying annoyance. Both ideas confused him, especially the regret. It felt awkward and he hastily he looked away, busying himself by brushing off some imaginary dirt from his pants.

“Why don’t you come in?” Young asked. He made a tentative inviting gesture towards the open doors of his quarters.

Almost against his will Rush gave him another scrutinizing look and was surprised to see a slight smile on the Colonel’s face now. It caused his nervousness to reappear with a vengeance. _So, maybe it is a lion’s den after all_ , he thought, resigning himself to the fact that his mind seemed to be fairly stuck with its crazy imagery for the time being.

***

One hour later they were deep in conversation. Rush hadn’t believed that he would be able to talk Young out of following Eli’s plan without presenting Young with a viable alternative in the first place. He tried nonetheless, feeling that he owed it to the mission, the crew, and not least himself to do so.

To his surprise Young patiently listened to his objections, looked at him steadily and actually _listened_. It kindled a spark of hope in Rush, even if he suspected it to be only a fleeting pleasure. Therefore the final verdict didn’t come as a surprise, though his unexpectedly sharp disappointment about it did.

“I understand your reservations, but ultimately we have no other option but to try, and I believe that with all your protests set aside, you know that as much as the rest of us.” Young said, giving Rush a speculative glance.   

“Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong during that three year journey between galaxies, Colonel?” Rush asked, not caring how his exasperation was thickening his accent, ignoring Young’s claim that he, Rush, was recognizing the need for immediate action just like the others, even if he had to admit to himself that the answer was a qualified if grudging ‘yes’.

Young stared at him for a long moment, getting up abruptly when the silence between them was just on the verge of getting uncomfortable. He walked over to his desk, picked up a bottle and returned to Rush.

Putting down two cups, he asked, “Want some?”

The question seemed innocuous enough, but it made Rush deeply suspicious.

“Is there any reason why you’d want to get me drunk?” he asked back.

Young was already in the process of pouring some of Brody’s booze for both of them, but at Rush’s accusatory question he looked up, a quick glance, sharp and annoyed as he continued to pour. Picking up both cups he held one out to Rush. “Look, there’s so much work to be done in the next few days, so much planning to be done before we’re ready to put everyone in stasis.” He set Rush’s cup down in front of him. “I know you’re not exactly _happy_ about this.” He took a small swig from his cup, gave Rush another slight smile. He seemed to search for words, his expression clearly showing his difficulty in finding fitting ones. “For the sake of the crew?” he finally asked, echoing another conversation they had in what felt like almost a lifetime ago.

Rush sighed in response. “Colonel, this isn’t about my _happiness_. This _is_ for the sake of _Destiny_ and our mission and, yes, also for the sake of the crew, because these are after all only two sides of the same medal.” He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.

This whole discussion was so very tiresome. In the end it always came down to this: From the very first day he’d done everything to make this mission a success. Granted it had taken him some time to learn what exactly that mission was and, yes, that had involved making some hard choices. He hadn’t always had the luxury of letting everyone in on his decision-making processes either, but exactly whose fault was that? It certainly wasn’t his. The more he had learned about that mission, the more imperative it had become for him to see it through, and sometimes that had even meant protecting it from the people around him. To achieve that goal he was willing to go to any length. Young had never fully understood that, especially not in the beginning. Lately though, he ‘d come to believe that the colonel had learned to appreciate at least some of his dedication, even if he still seemed unable or maybe unwilling to comprehend its full extent.

“Plus you and me?” Young’s question, asked a couple of months ago, had startled and confused Rush, but it had also left him with a strange feeling of satisfaction, a feeling almost akin to elation. It had left him with the urge to shout, ‘Yes, finally!’ and ‘At last you got it’ and ‘What took you so long to see what’s really important here?’ Of course he hadn’t let it show like this, even if he’d felt like grabbing the man in front of him and giving him a hug or something.

 _Oh, yes, and trying anything like that would have ended with your nose broken most likely_ , a tiny voice in his mind told him. He chuckled in response.

“Something’s funny?” Young asked.

“What?” Rush jerked out of his thoughts. “No, no, Colonel. Just a stray thought.” Rush picked up his cup and took a sip of the liquid. “Fine,” he said, slightly breathless as his throat tried to deal with the astringent quality of the alcohol. He raised his cup, giving a mocking salute, yet his tone was serious as he said, “For the sake of the crew.”

***

The next morning he was deep in discussion with his science team when Young came up to them in the ship’s mess. “A word,” he said, jerking his head, indicating a nearby empty table.

Rush looked at Eli and the others present. “We’ll finish this later,” he told them and rose to follow the colonel over. His team gave him rather puzzled looks, most likely wondering what kind of business he and Young might have to discuss in private. Volker’s face especially showed downright suspicion.

It didn’t take much for Rush to guess at the reason for Young’s request. Yesterday evening he and Young hadn’t done much more than try to convince each other of their honesty and willingness to see this madman’s plan through together. It had been a grudging concession on his part, but he had reasoned with himself that since he wouldn’t be able to prevent it, he should very well try to take a part in determining the plan’s particulars. Even marginal control was better than none.

He and Young had done a delicate dance around each other. Both of them had been so careful in choosing their words. They’d spoken slowly, their voices remaining muted, as they had reassured each other of their mutual support in this endeavour. It had been a very strange atmosphere as they had sat together talking, and sipping Brody’s not-quite-whiskey, an atmosphere seemingly familiar on the surface, almost like a shared late evening between friends and colleagues, an illusion, of course, as compelling as it might have felt.

“What was that about?” Young asked, as Rush sat down opposite from him, setting his plate down in front of him.

For a moment he almost sounded suspicious, but Rush pushed the notion aside. No, he was probably just imagining it.  “We’ve discussed the most important work that needs to be done before we go into stasis,” he answered, and watched Young’s eyes narrowing as he spoke. He was almost certain he could predict the next question.

“I thought Destiny’s systems were stable? Apart from the power leaks you and Eli are always complaining about,” Young said.

This time, Rush was sure he wasn’t imagining the suspicion that had crept into the colonel’s voice. The man was such a damn control freak and so paranoid, he would suspect and accuse his own shadow of conspiring behind his back. “They are, and we don’t complain, we merely state facts,” Rush answered, stressing each word, aiming to make his voice sound as reasonable and professional as possible, doing his best to keep his rising impatience out of it.

For a while Young simply stared at him. It was one of his silent evaluating stares, its purpose patently clear as it so often produced the result of sending those being the focus of it into more or less hectic explanations, attempting to satisfy the wordless prompt, to fill the silence that was quickly turning awkward. Rush, however, wasn’t so easily unsettled. He could sit and wait as long as it took. Dropping the fork with which he had idly pushed some of his food around his plate, he leaned on his elbows, returning Young’s stare squarely and equally silent.

The silence lengthened. At last it was Young who gave in, saying, “Very well. We need to set up a time-schedule for this, for the next few days until we’re ready to go.”

Rush nodded, “I can certainly give you some input on that—” He stopped when he saw Young shaking his head. “What?” he asked, somewhat indignantly. Surely Young wouldn’t be so paranoid that he couldn’t even accept _some_ input from him?

Young slowly shook his head. “No, we’re going to plan this together. I can’t coordinate it alone and Camile’s far too busy with arranging those going-home-trips.”

Rush had feared to be shut out, to be left out of the loop. Now, he stared at Young for a long moment, attempting to deal with the disquieting feeling of disorientation of having his expectations turned upside-down. Young was doing that a lot to him lately and he found it deeply disturbing as well as more than a little annoying. So, the colonel wanted to do this together? With him? That was a novelty. It also left him wondering why.

“What about Eli? It’s his plan, after all,” he asked to buy some time.

“Oh, come on.” Young shook his head slowly, the lines of tension around his eyes clearly betraying his impatience.

“Fine,” Rush answered, giving in to the offer. “But let us finish our evaluation first.” He gestured towards the other table where Eli, Brody and Volker were still throwing surreptitious glances in their direction. “In fact I think it’s high time that I join my team again.” Leaning forward he dropped his voice almost to a whisper. “Otherwise they might start to wonder what secrets the two of us could have.” It was a childish joke. He knew it, but he couldn’t help making it, the opportunity just was too good to let it pass.

Unconsciously Young had leaned forward, too. Now, anger flitted across his features, but it came and went lightning quick until his usual mask of professional calm was once again back in place. He rose, the movement slightly too sudden. “My quarters, two hours,” Young said shortly, but then a thought must have occurred to him, because his expression changed again, a slight smile appearing on his face. Rounding the table he stepped close to Rush and placing a hand on his shoulder Young leaned down, leaned close and stage-whispered into Rush’s ear, “As long as they only assume we’re withholding information from them, I wouldn’t be too concerned, really.” He straightened, but didn’t take his hand away, giving Rush a smile that supposedly was meant to be— what? Teasing? Mockingly flirtatious? Rush hadn’t seen that particular expression on Young’s face before. It caught him with his guard down, making his pulse quicken in alarm. It was a not too subtle reminder what a bastard Young could be if he wanted.

“Two hours,” Young repeated. Turning again, he picked up his plate and left, but not without crossing over to the table where Eli and the others sat having carefully watched their exchange. Rush heard him telling them that time was of the essence and that they shouldn’t keep him, Rush, for too long, since he expected him in his quarters in two hours sharp to report.

***

It was a matter of principle that he was late as he walked to Young’s quarters. The last two hours of planning and discussions he’d spent with Eli, Brody, and Volker had gone by swiftly. They had made a list of the most critical check-ups and repairs, going through all the ship’s systems. It had been easy to prioritize; the difficult part was determining how many of the most critical priorities they’d be able to accomplish with merely days to spend and how many they would have to ignore and simply hope for the best.

More than once the others had nagged him about Young’s order not to keep Rush for too long. Initially he’d meant to simply tell them, but just as he’d started to explain, he’d suddenly changed his mind. So his answer had been rather vague. “Oh, we need to discuss a couple of things,” he’d told them, and seeing the varying degrees of disappointment and disbelief on the other’s faces, he’d added, “It’s kind of personal.”

That remark, of course, had hit like a bomb and three pairs of eyes had stared at him while a baffled silence had settled between them. For a second he’d wondered just how foolish that remark had been and how much it would cost him in the end. Yet, it had been Young who’d started the joke, or whatever it was and, regardless of how much their relationship might have smoothened lately - _not much, to be fair, a_ tiny voice in his mind threw inbefore he squashed it - he would be damned if he allowed the man to play some game with him without giving as good as he got. No, he would play along, even if he wasn’t completely sure about the rules so far. Let it be Young who finally gave up with his fingers burned. Of one thing he was sure: if it meant that they shifted their confrontations from actual physical fights towards duelling with words, his chances of winning would improve dramatically. Actually the prospect could be quite entertaining, he decided. _Oh, Colonel_ , he thought, y _ou’re so going to regret this._

He must have started to smile at the thought, because Eli, who was still staring at him with an expression close to shock after his last remark, tentatively cleared his throat at that point and said, “Sure, whatever.”

They’d gone back to their planning, though it had been almost comical to catch their cautious glimpses thrown at him every once in a while, as if they weren’t quite sure what to make of this supposed development.

He reached the colonel’s quarters. This time he didn’t pause to collect his thoughts; he just knocked and waited to be let in. The doors slid open so fast, his imagination provided him with the image of Young already waiting beside the door. The idea was amusing. He wondered if there were at least some truth to it, and what it might tell him about the other man’s state of mind. After opening the doors, Young didn’t say anything at first. Rush watched the Colonel’s retreating back as the man walked over to the low table and sofas where they’d sat together the evening before. An open laptop indicated that he had been working on something while waiting for Rush.

Young sat down and looked at Rush expectantly. “You’re almost on time,” he said by way of greeting, like a schoolmaster praising an erstwhile recalcitrant pupil who’s finally come around to behave itself.

Rush would have none of such nonsense. He walked over to the table and sat down. Slouching, he answered casually, “Yes, well, they asked me of course why you’d ordered me here.” He leaned forward and, angling for the laptop, pulled it over and around so he could look at its screen. Without looking up, he added, “I told them we’re having a date.”

The ensuing silence was laden. Keeping his eyes fixed to the laptop’s screen he was a bit disappointed when no immediate audible reaction followed. Instead the laptop was snatched away from him. He looked up and to his surprise he saw his own amusement mirrored in the Colonel’s eyes.

“Is that so— Nicholas.” Young replied, speaking slowly, cocking his head slightly to the side, as if he was listening to something only he could hear. “I hope you’re not expecting to be wined and dined. Our time-schedule is far too tight for anything as elaborate as that. So let’s get down to work, shall we?” He said. Before Rush was able to respond, he continued, his demeanour now changing to a more business-like attitude. “I’ve pulled up the crew manifest Camile’s been working on so excessively. I expect the faster we can start putting people into stasis the better, right?”

Rush nodded, deciding to forego any response to them suddenly being on a first name basis now, even if Young had once again succeeded to startle him considerably with it. “Yes, minimizing the number of people around as fast as possible will lessen the draw on _Destiny’s_ power reserves,” he answered. “The more we can reduce life-support the better. The people we need around are those who are essential for preparing _Destiny_ for our long jump as well as those who can make preparations for the time after.” He gave Young a hard look before continuing. “That is, assuming that we even make it, of course, which is anything but certain as I’ve pointed out before.” He wasn’t surprised when Young ignored the last jibe.

Now their recent game of dares was completely forgotten. Their priorities established, they set out to create a strategy for how to proceed. Five days, that’s what their first estimate came down to. It would take them five days to get everything done, though Rush was again and again cautioning that this was a best-case-scenario. It didn’t come as a surprise that most of the preparations necessary would rest on Rush himself and his team, meaning Brody and Volker and Eli. Those would have to stay around for a while. They agreed to include TJ, Camile, and Chloe, too. Camile was still busily scheduling those return-home-visits for the rest of the crew and keeping TJ around was always wise. Accidents always happened and _Destiny’s_ age made them an even more regular occurrence. They argued over Chloe for a while. Rush had assigned her the task of going over Eli’s calculations as often as possible and necessary. He’d also asked her to try to come up with an independent set of calculations for their time in FTL. While Young told him he thought his precautions were a bit excessive, he gave in to his advice without too much of a struggle.

Young, on the other hand, insisted on both Scott and Greer and, even though Rush couldn’t see the real necessity for keeping any military personnel aside from Young himself around, he decided to humour the colonel and keep his own derogatory comments about the military and the military’s rather narrow mind-set to himself. If it kept the colonel from questioning Rush’s own actions too much, two more people, useless or not, weren’t too high a price to pay for it. They wouldn’t make a crucial difference in their need to save as much of _Destiny’s_ power reserves as possible for their long upcoming journey.

With their planning finished at last, Rush leaned back and, slouching further down, he let his head fall against the sofa’s backrest. For a moment he closed his eyes, feeling the familiar bone-deep weariness sink in that had become a constant companion ever since their arrival on _Destiny_.

“You look tired,” Young commented.

It was a stupid remark. They were always tired, both of them, and of course it showed. “Yes, well, as much as I would like to stay—” He opened his eyes, intending to stand up, when he saw the rather odd look on Young’s face and froze.

“What?” Rush asked, replaying the last moments in his mind. Oh, yes, now that had definitely been stupid, too, he realised, him saying he’d like to stay here. It was a careless phrase, a platitude, nothing more, but between the two of them there seldom was room for carelessness. The most startling thing, however, was that a part of him honestly would have liked to stay, to enjoy the relative peace and quiet. Another part of him, the much more sane part most likely, immediately scoffed at him, mockingly questioning since when his definition of peace and quiet involved Young and Young’s quarters. Practically from day one the man had been a constant nuisance to him and not even their relatively new spirit of greater cooperation could have changed that, could it?

He cleared his throat and rose, very much aware of the eyes following his movements as Young remained stubbornly silent. Rush felt compelled to say something, anything to lessen the tension that had suddenly sprung up between them.

“How about a game of chess later?” he asked, immediately wondering where _that_ question had come from, now, but then he thought of that strange other game that Young was playing and decided that the invitation fit into it quite well.

It also caused Young’s eyebrows to shoot up, the expression of slight puzzlement changing to open surprise.

“You did tell me, you played, remember— Everett?” Rush added and now he was feeling fully back in control. He was almost sure the colonel would decline. He wasn’t sure if that would mean he’d scored a point or lost a round, but he turned out to be wrong.

 “I’d like that.” Young answered slowly, with not a hint of carelessness present in his voice, sounding surprisingly sincere.

It left Rush with nothing more to say or do than utter a lame “Till later, then” and leave to continue their preparations. He was already out in the corridor when he realized that his regret for not being able to stay longer was still there. _Damn_ , he thought and hastened his steps.

***

Two days later, they discovered the malfunctioning row of pods. It felt like a slap to the face, all their best laid plans crumbling to the ground. Eli had called him away from some repair work and over to one of the pod sections. At first the four of them had spent an hour or so checking and re-checking the pods and the readings. Especially Volker and Brody got almost frantic in their search. They did an extensive analysis and once they had the definite and damning verdict, they had sent Volker to inform Young.

Rush had fast come to the conclusion that their tight schedule, as well as their desperate situation, wouldn’t allow for anything else but an equally desperate solution. They would have to leave eight people behind. The realization had felt bitter but unavoidable.

Later when Lisa Park arrived on the bridge and laid out _her_ plan to acquire the necessary palladium hydride in a strategy that while being risky, nonetheless offered a real chance for success, he had felt relieved. The idea of having to condemn eight people to certain death hadn’t been a comfortable one. Naturally it had been he who’d first voiced that tragic possibility to Young. As usual the others had shied away from articulating the solution they’d already discussed before meeting with the colonel on the bridge. Once Rush had said the words, however, once it had been established that he’d take the blame for saying the inconvenient and unthinkable, they’d joined in readily enough.

Yet, there had been something nagging him, like half of an equation that refused to offer up its solution. There was something wrong with that picture of Park and Greer coming to the bridge like they had.

“Check”

The statement jerked him out of his thoughts. He let his eyes fly over the board, re-evaluating the last couple of moves, checking if his strategy was still working. Young had turned out to be a good player, a solid strategist, but with a lack of originality that hadn’t come as a surprise exactly, though it had been a bit disappointing. Nonetheless, he was good enough to be a moderate challenge.

Having decided to voice his concerns about Park, he said, “There’s something I don’t understand.” He briefly looked up, met the colonel’s gaze. “Why did it take one of my science team to come up with a military strategy to get that hydride?” He moved his rook, opening the trap he’d set up by positioning his bait for the Colonel’s taking.

For a while Young remained silent. “Hmm, I imagine we would’ve come up with a similar strategy sooner or later. What is it? Don’t tell me you’re begrudging her being the one to bring it up first?”

He didn’t capture the rook, ignoring the bait, and that was unexpected. He also hadn’t really answered Rush’s question.

“No of course not,” Rush replied absentmindedly. His trap was in danger of failing, and that problem momentarily took precedence over everything else. Young’s last move was puzzling, yet it didn’t take Rush long to adapt his strategy.

Voices broke into his concentration and he looked up to see who had come to the observation deck at such a late hour. Eli and Chloe were slowly making their way over to a group of loungers. Both looked over to them and their chess game, yet while their very first game two days ago had raised quite a lot of comments and curious stares from the rest of the crew, today their presence and the fact that they shared each other’s company didn’t elicit more than a smile from Chloe and only a minimally puzzled nod from Eli.

He saw Young reaching out to pick up one of his chess-pieces and the movement drew his attention back to the board. He watched as Young moved his queen, another unexpected move. Suddenly he had a sinking feeling that fast turned to horror. He hadn’t seen it. He would lose. He had no more than four moves left and then he would lose, the checkmate being inevitable. He looked up and again Young met his gaze and now he smiled. _He knows,_ Rush thought, _of course he knows._

He’d underestimated Young, blatantly underestimated him. That shouldn’t have happened. Making such a lapse in judgement was unforgivable. It was also highly dangerous. While underestimating Young during a chess-game wouldn’t have more dire consequences than losing a match, doing so in their day-to-day dealings could be fatal. This latest realization left him oddly shaken. Taking a deep breath, he drew himself together and with a sigh, he reached out, toppling his king over, admitting defeat. He offered his hand and Young took it, the smile still in place, as one eyebrow rose in a silent question.

True, they had forgone such formal gestures up until now, but so far Rush had won all their games of the last two days. He could go without the acknowledgement. Now he suspected that Young actually might have let him win, had simply taken his time to study him as closely as Rush had studied Young. He couldn’t help the feeling of grudging admiration for the man sitting across from him.

Though he wasn’t exactly overjoyed at the prospect, he would offer his congratulations and respect to anyone who’d earned them, even if that someone was Colonel Everett Young.

“Who won?” The question came from Eli.

Before Rush could answer, Young beat him to it. Letting go of Rush’s hand, he turned towards Eli and Chloe saying, “Nicholas, of course, what did you think?” He gave them a little self-deprecatory smile which changed to a grin as he turned back to Rush.

Now, Rush was genuinely bewildered and this time he had no patience to speculate. The only possible explanation that immediately came to his mind was that Young was trying to protect his pride and that idea was so far-fetched, so outlandish; it couldn’t be. Leaning forward he said in a hushed voice so that Eli and Chloe couldn’t understand his words, “Why did you say that?”

Young simply smiled at him, the same smile he’d had on his face when Rush had first realised his looming defeat. It drove Rush crazy. Obviously this was part of Young’s game, the other game apart from chess that was going on between them, that game of crossing boundaries, of pushing at each other to see how far one was able to go and if the other would raise or fold in return.

Was Young considering his words as a way to raise the stakes and, if so, in what way? Rush slowly shook his head and started to put the chess-pieces back into the little bag he kept them in.

“What, you don’t want another match?” Young asked and now he was definitely teasing.

Rush snorted. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he answered, “Why should I? I’m satisfied with the one match I won just now.” He didn’t smile back, feeling too annoyed at the moment.

He was already outside of the observation deck and on his way to his quarters when at least one explanation to his questions suddenly crossed his mind. Young had used his first name, had called him Nicholas publicly. The thought made him stop dead in his tracks. What exactly was going on here? He’d asked himself this question repeatedly during the last days, but without coming up with a definite answer.

He picked up his walk again while he carefully examined all the facts he had, trying to look at everything with the dispassionate gaze of a mathematician attempting to solve an equation. This one shouldn’t be too difficult to solve.

Looking at the surface, Young’s actions seemed easy enough to interpret. He was doing his best to be not only cooperative but friendly even, an obvious attempt to stay true to the agreement they’d reached not so long ago when they’d gone to that alien ship and got trapped there for a while.

What startled him was the speed with which everything was happening and the rather bizarre playfulness that had somehow stolen its way into their relationship and the way they behaved around each other. Young was constantly pushing him and he knew no other way to react but to push back and push further, because stepping down and stepping away clearly wasn’t an option. He wondered where all this was leading to and where it would end, and why it left him feeling like an impostor within the confines of his own mind, as his actions and reactions continued to divert further and further from his normal patterns of behaviour. Tiredly he pressed the door’s opening mechanism and slipped into his quarters, feeling not unlike a thief, trying to claim a place that wasn’t his anymore.

***

Their plan worked. A day later they had lost a shuttle, but had gained a sled packed high with the precious raw materials to process more than enough of the needed palladium hydride. Now they would be able to repair the malfunctioning pods. It wasn’t easy to accomplish, but they made it and once again it looked like they were right on track with their time-schedule.

Work on _Destiny’s_ systems continued and Rush spent another day checking her most critical functions, fixing and repairing as much as was possible, conferring with Young every couple of hours to see how the rest of their preparations were going.

At last they were down to the final group of eight, with all other members of the crew already in stasis. For the evening they’d agreed to share a last dinner together. They sat in the mess around one of the long tables, sharing all of the perishable food that wouldn’t survive the upcoming years in stasis, the abundance of food heightening their spirits as much as a more moderate amount of Brody’s booze available. The atmosphere was almost carefree, far less pensive than usual or expected under the circumstances.

The prospect of their ‘big jump’ as Eli so poetically had called it on one occasion didn’t seem to be as daunting to most of the others as it was to Rush. They seemed to have only a vague idea of how much and what exactly could go wrong during that supposedly three-year-long trip. They had learned to trust him and his team to keep everything around them in working order. He suspected that they thought of what lay ahead of them as something of a grand adventure, and he found that both alarming and slightly disgusting. Maybe their trust should flatter him, but he couldn’t feel any satisfaction at the recognition.

If it were solely up to him, he wouldn’t go into stasis. If there was any way to stay out of those infernal pods, any way at all that wouldn’t risk all their lives, any way that would offer at least a large enough margin for success, he would take it, but he hadn’t found a single one.

He sat through their last dinner; his thoughts were miles away most of the time. Then Scott asked Young for a toast and he gave that little speech of his.

“We’re a family now, whether we like it or not,” he told them. He looked at each of them as he continued, “—with sons, daughters, sisters, even the slightly crazy uncle who despite everything still manages to come through for you in the end. You are the smartest, bravest, most compassionate people that I have ever had the honour to serve with. To family.” He raised his cup and they toasted each other.

***

They went down to the corridor that contained the last empty pods and within minutes their number had dwindled down to three with only Young, Eli, and himself remaining.

Eli excused himself immediately afterwards, stating he wanted to do one last check-up on his calculations. They let him go, not because it was a necessary duty or even an advisable one, but it was so very clear how much he wanted to do it, how much he needed the reassurance that his plan would work, that he hadn’t made a mistake somewhere, somehow.

With Eli gone it was a strange atmosphere that settled in between them as they slowly wandered towards the observation deck. They had the ship to themselves, well, apart from Eli, but he was out of sight and effectively out of their minds. Rush couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so proprietary about _Destiny_. She was really his now. She always had been, but now the sense was much stronger.

Arriving on the observation deck they sat down on one of the benches close to the railing and for a while they simply looked out at the display of colours and glowing particle streams that played around Destiny’s stubby wings and nose, forming eddies and streaming tails that almost looked like a thin train of wedding dress with Destiny being the hopeful bride, eagerly moving on to her far-away fortune.

“Sometimes I envy you,” Young said, breaking the long silence between them.

“And why is that?”

“You’re at home here. You’re exactly where you want to be.” Young had an almost wistful look on his face.

Rush had no idea how to respond. It was true: he was at home here. He had been from the very beginning. On the way to the deck, he’d barely managed to restrain himself from letting his hand glide over the corridor walls as he had passed through them. The last days of relentless work to prepare _Destiny_ for her long journey had only intensified a connection he had always felt, but he couldn’t explain that to Young. He didn’t want to explain it.

From one instant to the next he felt a sudden urge to run, but a hand on his wrist stopped him before he’d even had a chance to rise from the bench, let alone make it out of the observation deck.

Young turned and looked at him, his grip on Rush’s wrist tightening as he said, “Sometimes I wish I could feel the same.”

“Is that what this is? Your way of getting under my skin?” Rush asked, his irritation rising. “That’s the purpose of this game you’ve started?”

Young smiled. “I told you I like to play chess.”

Rush shook his head in frustration, very aware that Young’s hand was still holding his wrist, even if his grip had loosened again.

“Stop fooling around, Everett,” he said at last and he was unsettled by the weariness in his own voice. He stared out at _Destiny’s_ multi-coloured trails, avoiding the other man’s eyes.

The answer came slowly and it sounded even wearier. “The truth is, I’m tired,” Young said. “I’m tired of the constant second-guessing between us. You said so yourself when you told me we should do this side by side.”

He leaned slightly towards Rush, bumping their shoulders. “It seems we are, right now.”

 _Really, how unsubtle can you be, Colonel?_ Rush thought indignantly, and now his irritation gained momentum. What was this, a peace offering, a proposition for a truce? Back on that alien ship, when it had been Rush who had made the same proposition Young had laughed at him, had laughed and had made his disbelief so very clear. Now, he expected Rush to simply accept his words at face value. Granted, Rush’s own proposal had followed immediately after another of their violent clashes, after he’d found himself overpowered by Young and strangled to the point that his vision had greyed out, that he had truly believed this was it, that he was finally done for. Yet how could Young deny Rush the same integrity he so unconcernedly claimed for himself?

“Do you really believe you have what it takes?” he asked.

Young rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, face it. There’s no alternative around, is there? But I can’t do my job, I can’t lead if I constantly have to worry what information I’m missing, and what kind of elaborate schemes you’re coming up with behind my back,” Young retorted.

Trust, it always boiled down to trust between them. Trust in oneself and trust in the other. Rush still wasn’t convinced that Young had the necessary qualities to lead this mission, not in the way Rush wanted to see it being led. Of course, that was the very truth that lay at the bottom of his whole dilemma and he’d understood that right from day one after setting foot on _Destiny_. He’d brought these people here, unknowing and unwilling, and now he depended on them to see his vision come true.

It was so frustrating, sometimes he wanted to scream.

For a moment he seriously considered whether he should tell Young about the changes he’d made to the crew’s wake-up-schedule they’d agreed upon. He drew a deep breath, the words already beckoning to be spoken, but something stopped him and he swallowed, ignoring the slightly bitter taste in his throat it left behind.

“What do you expect from the slightly crazy uncle?” he said instead, not bothering to defend himself against the accusations. He felt the hand around his wrist tighten again.

“Now, who’s fooling around?” Young asked.

“Seriously, what do you expect from me, a pledge, a letter of intent?” He pulled his wrist away. Now, he wanted more than to simply leave. The whole situation suddenly felt far too close, suffocating him, pushing him into the defensive. It was so like Young to put all the responsibility for their fucked up situation on him. It angered him. There was still so much to be done, so much more important things that needed his attention than sitting here, doing some star-and-navel-gazing with Young, of all people. He was about to get up and leave for good when the hand that had held his wrist now pressed down heavy on his shoulder.

“Don’t.”

Briefly Rush considered breaking the hold, but something in Young’s voice made him stay. The one word had almost felt like a plea.

Young continued, “I’m not asking for a pledge.” Letting go of Rush’s shoulder, Young turned towards him. “Why don’t we—” his voice faltered and he looked down awkwardly.

The hesitation made Rush even more uncomfortable than he felt already; it made him dread whatever Young’s next words might be.

At last Young looked up again. “Why don’t we treat this as a chance? A new galaxy, a new start?” He sounded serious, reasonable, conciliatory even.

Rush sighed. Damn the man for knowing exactly how to cut through all of his defences. It had been far easier to disregard Young while he was shouting and yelling or lashing out at him.

The hand on his shoulder made a re-appearance, and he found himself the recipient of what was obviously supposed to be a friendly shake. It was unnerving; this newfound fondness for making non-violent physical contact that Young displayed lately, far more unnerving than his former tendency for beating Rush up every once in a while. The latter had been a very unambiguous statement with nothing left unclear or open to interpretation as to Young’s intentions, but now Rush was receiving very mixed signals here. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to deal with them either.

He sighed again, noticing that he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, before he gave in. “Well, at least if it doesn’t work, we won’t run out of galaxies, won’t we?”

Young continued to stare at him unblinkingly. The man obviously had no sense of humour. “Fine,” Rush tried again. “Next galaxy we’ll try a new start.”

Now, Young did smile. He nodded once, then turned back to the observation window in front of them.

***

“How could we have missed it?” Eli asked, sounding both exasperated and frustrated.

“There was no way of knowing” Rush answered.

“But we ran a diagnostic.”

“And it showed no problems, because at that stage that particular section had yet to be fully engaged.” Rush had explained patiently. They hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t overlooked anything. Bad luck, that’s what it was.

They were one pod short. Rush understood Eli’s frustration all too well. To him it felt almost like a personal betrayal. How could _Destiny_ play such a nasty trick on him, especially when only the three of them were left?

They returned to the corridor where the faulty pod was situated. After a frustrating series of checks he sent Eli away to go through the database, so he could speak with Young in private.

“I should stay behind,” he told Young. “I’m the one best qualified to fix the pod in time, because there _is_ a definite time-limit here. Whoever stays behind has no more than two weeks with powered down ship’s systems to fix the pod. After two weeks the pod either has to be fixed or the one left behind has to cut all systems nonetheless.” He waited a moment, waited to see the realization in Young’s eyes as the other man understood the implication of what he was saying, nodded finally, confirming the conclusion Young had drawn on his own. “Yes, there’s no alternative, but I’m confident I can do it.”

He tried to convey his certainty as best as he could, but even as he spoke he could see the suspicion slowly falling over Young’s features. _So much for all his talks about a fresh start_ , he thought bitterly. It wasn’t that he was too eager to follow up on his own idea, but it was inevitable. Who else could do it? Young himself? The whole idea was laughable, yet he was practically sure that it was that idea exactly that right now took form in the colonel’s mind.

“I’ll think about it,” Young answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as his gaze wandered through the corridor, avoiding Rush’s stare. He gave him one last searching look before turning around and heading out of the corridor.

 _He’s already rejecting the idea, but he’s hesitant to say so_. Slowly Rush walked over to the pod control station. He wanted to give it one last check-up to make certain they hadn’t overlooked anything. After that he would use the remaining time to make some necessary adaptations. The manipulations he’d programmed into the pod’s waking-up schedule couldn’t stay as they were if Young was going to stay behind.

***

Young’s decision was both as expected and a surprise. The colonel had talked to Eli and the young man had volunteered to stay behind. The development was unwelcome to say the least. To some extent Rush was even proud of the kid. He had prodded Eli again and again to lay claim to his inheritance, to recognize and fully realize his own potential. Obviously Eli had decided that these cross-roads now were the right moment to finally take that step. _Bad timing, Mr Wallace, atrociously bad timing,_ Rush thought.

From one moment to the next, all the adaptations he’d made to his programming were obsolete. Young would be safe. He would go into stasis and Eli would stay behind. Briefly he wondered if this outcome had been Young’s intention from the beginning. Ostensibly taking the young man into his confidence, letting him in on his honest misgivings about Rush’s own proposal, all the while waiting and wagering on the chance that Eli would step forward in the end.

It wasn’t as if Eli was difficult to manipulate, even Young should have been able to do it successfully. But in the end it didn’t really matter if Young had done what Rush suspected or if he hadn’t. The outcome was the same. There was now a definite risk they might lose Eli. That _he_ might lose Eli, one of the most resourceful crewmembers _Destiny_ had, and one that was crucial to _Destiny’s_ mission, of that Rush was absolutely certain.

What if Eli wasn’t able to fix the pod? Rush couldn’t let that happen, but what other options did he have?

He could program his own pod to release him once the colonel was out of the way and switch places with Eli. He was sure he could either convince Eli to agree to the switch or he could simply force him, but there was a catch. Sure he had recommended that he himself would be the best choice to stay behind. He was confident he could fix the pod in time, but what if he couldn’t either? Would he have the nerve to do what was necessary then? If he wasn’t able to fix the pod he had two choices: either submit to the inevitability of his death or choose one other crewmember, someone less crucial to their survival and to Destiny’s mission than himself, wake them up, dispose of them and take their place in a functioning pod. The idea was both logical and revolting and he wasn’t completely sure he would be able to follow through with it in the end.

He would have to actively choose someone to die and the idea made him shiver. Another thought crossed his mind. _I could choose Young._ Now, _that_ thought really left a twisted feeling in his stomach. He examined it closer, a feeling of morbid fascination slowly growing in his mind as he did so. The thought held clear benefits. He would survive and he wouldn’t have to deal with Young any more. He paused. No, the idea was ridiculous. Only, there was this nagging suspicion that no matter how much he convinced himself of the legitimacy of his dismissal, no more than a year ago he wouldn’t have discarded the idea so easily. Quite the contrary, he would have regarded it as perfectly reasonable.

There was no use, he decided, but to give up on this line of thought, but what was the alternative? He could simply abide by Young’s decision, let Eli stay behind, and trust in the young man’s abilities to fix the pod on his own. When Rush had talked to him in his quarters Eli had been confident he could do it, had actually thrown Rush’s own words back at him, telling him that it was high time that he used that potential Rush had always been nagging him about. Either he’d risk Eli’s life or his own.

***

His hands were still hovering over the control room’s interface, waiting for him to make a decision, waiting to make the necessary alterations in the programming when footsteps in the corridor leading to the control room interrupted his thoughts and sent a rush of adrenaline through his body. He had asked Young for two hours to do some last minute but important, adjustments to the FTL drive. The colonel had agreed readily enough. Now, he and Eli were both coming for Rush already and he hadn’t come to a decision yet. With Eli present he wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. The risk of discovery was far too great. His mind started to race as he tried to come up with a way to plead or argue for some more time on his own, even as the realization that it would be futile had already turned into certainty. Young was doing it on purpose; he was sure of it. Young had let him go, most likely to do some preparations on his own or with Eli, and now they were coming for him, leaving him without any other options but to follow them.

He took a deep, calming breath, letting his mind fall silent. Without any choices left there was no reason to continue his search for the best solution. It was out of his hands and, however much one part of him hated the idea, another almost felt relieved at being unburdened of the responsibility.

Turning away from his station, he greeted the two men entering with a silent nod.

“It’s time,” Young said, and again Rush stayed silent as he got up and followed them out, followed them down to the corridor where the last two functional pods were waiting for them.

***

Saying his goodbyes before stepping in his pod turned out to be quite an odd mixture of acting formal and familiar. During their silent walk he searched his mind for something he needed to tell them, but there seemed to be no words left, nothing to ask or to tell. They stood to the left and right of his pod, looking at him, and just for a split-second the tiniest spark of fear rose within him, caused by the utter helplessness of his position, the vulnerability being in stasis would entail.

He quashed it resolutely even as the pod’s front panel slid down, trapping him for good. He closed his eyes and his mind turned towards the last question he would ask himself for years.

_I wonder if I’m going to dream._

END


End file.
